Having entered the ‘Age of AI’
our spines to mush have turned
Bridges to common sense burned
our Luddite instincts we’ve let fly
Fear, the dominant emotion
folks ready to drown in the ocean…
The motorcar was to lead to debauchery
a dramatic increase in teenage pregnancy
The computer would replace human beings
life would lose all meaning
The motorcar and the computer we’ve somehow survived
Last I checked, more and more people alive
Perhaps we’ll manage to survive AI too
Come Halloween, don’t forget to say ‘Boo!’
Pretty bright sunny day with birds singing,
turned stormy with big dark clouds,
AN OUNCE OF TEARS came out.
Her human condition, still stuck in addiction, being spoon-fed the traumas that led to the murder of her best friend,
wounds that left scars, leaving more than just their mark.
An emptiness that grows, a deep yearning in her heart...
I'm bringing this all to my Father in Heaven to stop this tearing in my heart. Please feel my words, hear my hurt.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
I was a free bird like any other kid.
Spoke my heart,
24/7, smiled with a spark.
Danced on a random spot,
wore anything,
imagining no one gave a thought.
Posed any way when my dad said, "Smile."
A sense of pride when it was posted online.
Seeing my friends in the mall,
a memory I can never forget.
The joy of seeing them,
a thanks to God for letting us meet.
Years passed, people changed.
Jokes about my fashion were made.
My mom said I looked marvelous.
My happy face is acting like a curse.
My dance moves were questioned.
Ain't I embarrassed?
They wanna learn.
My anxiety shoots up
when I see someone in the mall.
What have I worn?
How's my hair?
That's what my brain recalls.
When my mom posts,
my first instinct is to check
that my friends can't see.
My blood boils when they know my nickname.
I feel judged.
Yeah, that's a shame.
I don't wanna be this wise.
I wanna be silly like my little old self,
who felt pride in loving Lily.
In the quiet creases of your wallet,
Among bills and borrowed time
you carry a moment of me
A photograph turned talisman
Tucked away with ur metro card....
folded between everyday storms
and small sunlit errands.
I wonder, if he knows
Those pictures arent just paper to me,
it is a relic of our almost-forever,
A forever that brushed past us and kept going
Like I am the bookmark
in the unfinished novel of us,
I wonder…
when he pays for tea
does the shopkeeper notice
how his fingers lingers a second longer
And he pauses for a heartbeat
Right over the pocket
Where my picture lives
And though the photograph is still,
the story is breathing
paused, yet not ended
waiting for the day
he no longer needs ink and paper
to remember
how much I mean to him.
~Nilashree
I'm saying to myself;
The trip is needful
But not mandatory.
Do I go, or do I stay?
I know that the cause
Is a worthy one, and the
Destination is a great one.
It's the journey that I hate.
I don't want to fly.
I try to be patient,
But I'm growing weary of airports;
And flight paths are brutal.
I don't want to drive.
I've grown averst to driving.
Rental reservation is no
Gurantee of getting the car.
I don't want bus or train;
Two years ago, a train trip
Involved an 8 hour layover.
That is too much pain.
I'm tossing by night
And turning by day;
And still saying to myself,
Do I go, or do I stay?
Everything off, unsaveable dream and past
What can a lonely soul do? What a poor!
– And this is just the beginning of the end
Pain. Hmm. An open brain, a crashed mind
So many attacks, destroyed self-protection
– And this is just the beginning of the end
Devils keep up this life, Jesus sees this life
Not his mistake, loved teacher. I love you
– And this is just the beginning of the end
No way. But there is. Who can help? Who?
Live in this spiritual gap! Oh, I need my hell!
– And this is just the beginning of the end
No time, no chance. I want to live and die
To the new. For the new life. Where is that?
– And this is just the beginning of the end
I am out of my mind. No idea who drives
This is the gift from Life. Destructive life
– And this is just the beginning of the end
Demons, evils, caring for this hellish time
This time is my fate, A difficult, dense web
– And this is just the beginning of the end
No way, dying hope, life is a labyrinth, gray
So many options, all of them just illusions
– Hopeless life, willing desire, end of life
End of life? Yes. How?
New life. How? This is the end
Hmm. Life is turned back
“Everyone’s different,” says someone born in May
To the another whose birthday’s in June.
“But we all get a “hip hip hooray!”!”
“Every cake’s different,” say tastebuds to a spoon;
A stable table to some disposable plates
As they hear for the first time the table’s same tune.
“Every bite’s different,” say the plates in turn on the table.
“Every different bite’s bitten to a new beat on the first record
That plays when cake song’s sung and cake placement is stable.
The foreground to “the food of love” is to tape record.
The format of birthdays is repeated, results still differing for
Each year’s wish, released like a parachute pack by a ripcord.
My dreams turned into nightmares
The soul’s cloak to take
Intertwined manifestations
I can no longer escape
The soul’s cloak to take
A misguided route of fate
Intertwined manifestations
Brings you closer to the date
A misguided route of fate
Suits with crooked ties
Brings you closer to the date
Subtle mind control clouds the mind
Suits with crooked ties
Brings you nothing but unwarranted lies
Subtle mind control clouds the mind
How do I return to the innocence of sunrise
Brings you nothing but unwarranted lies
My dreams turned into nightmares
How do I return to the innocence of sunrise
Intertwined manifestations
How can you say I dont care
I dont think it's very fair
That you say I've put up walls
Higher and higher that won't fall
But the truth is it's no lie
I can even tell you why
My heart has shut down with you
Leaving me so lost and blue
You have changed from when we met
And I will never forget
The man that you used to be
When you were in love with me
Turned to high voltage and keyed up,
up hard right to strike fresh levels.
Levels that can leave some unhinged,
Unhinged ‘til the tables are turned.
Turned into this savage with love,
love that was inhaled so deeply.
Deeply mixing sparks with nitro,
nitro that left her whole world turned.
I turned on the radio and heard this country song,
The melody was steady, the feeling sure was strong.
A steel guitar was twanging, like memories in the night,
It painted fields of summer, gold beneath the fading light.
A voice sang about a heartbreak down on some old dusty road,
Of letters never written and love that once had glowed.
He crooned about a front porch, a dog asleep at feet,
A gentle southern sunset and a world that felt complete.
The chorus told of freedom, a truck and open sky,
Of chasing distant daydreams and never asking why.
There was laughter in the verses, and tears within the tune,
Old friends and faded blue jeans, memories gone too soon.
Each word felt like a story I somehow knew by heart,
About losing what you cherish and finding a new start.
I turned up the dial louder, let the music take me home,
In every line and melody, I found I'm not alone.
So here’s to country radio, where memories belong,
And hearts find some comfort in a simple country song.
Urgent intentions will not be virtuous enough;
To mention, of the better, which path is it paved from?
Hell purges etchings of where your silhouette set drops.
Like Cloisonné flattened edgeways, beauty finds a brush.
You can do what's right as long as it can still be done,
But from where the comfort derives weighs more than the sun.
Strip your palms and find the bones, actions can't change the blood.
Rid the dawn of the fight you hope, where passions won;
Self-designation tropes mimic, even lack thereof.
We do all that we can do, but whose posture becomes
the fare, collateral damage we forget to fund?
Inwards piecing shape to form what cannot be undone,
whether from what you see or say, grievance follows us
Contort wilds towards tending the tame, normal but not;
We are not of what we are, but of what we become.
So however we see ourselves; Image falsely knots.
We can't know of tomorrow but that's where we are from.
Olivia a hoot owl with an attitude
swooped down to spy a witch’s food
the witch was in a horrible mood
she turned the owl into a witch - kind of rude
I am sure she did not mean for me to always be this way.
Thought the new witch, angry at the other witch every day.
But she was wrong, the other witch meant for her to stay.
Eventually she got used to it and bridge these two would play.
At my yearly review, she hands me a recap of my performance.
After a year of working weekends
overtime on short notice-
going the x-tra yard
taking on x-tra projects
dodging H.R (for the most part).
I would be getting .73 cents an hour raise.
My face must've turned gargoyle
because the newbie supervisor
lowered her eyes and apologized.
Nervously adding that she had no hand in determining raises.
Her pimply head nodding toward the ceiling....
Implying the flaccid raise was concocted by the ones upstairs...
Where underworked blonde birds and plump business casual lived.
23 years of work .73 cents an hour raise...
The vending machine on the first floor has candy bars for a buck twenty-five.
I think I'll go celebrate
yeeha.
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